Virus
by Woomie
Summary: The original 6 Avengers are unstoppable, right? Except they find themselves facing an enemy they never expected. A surprise ally turns up, but will that be enough? No pairings, mild language, all about how friendship survives in danger.
1. Infection

This is my second attempt at fan fiction. I adore the Avengers, especially the original 6. This is a slight whump, I guess, but it's more about how a "ticking time bomb" became a team. If there's interest I'll keep sharing chapters. PLEASE review as I suck at evaevaluating my own writing.

Location: somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

Hour One

Robert Hahn had no reason to look happy. The white supremacist and disciple of the late Johann Schmidt was bruised and beaten, handcuffed and surrounded by his greatest enemies. The Avengers had raided his palatial home and razed most of it when they were met with HYDRA weaponry. The man himself was one of only a handful to survive the assault, and he and the six heroes were the only occupants of a Quinjet speeding toward New York.

Yet Hahn kept smiling, which irritated his captors, especially since he refused to answer a single question about what exactly he had been brewing up in his state-of-the-art labs. There hadn't been very much information at his home – although there was plenty to implicate him in his other hobby: human trafficking.

Perhaps it wasn't surprising that Tony Stark cracked first. "You know, Adolph, you're awfully chipper given what you're heading toward. We're going to land and some scary guys in suits are going to make you disappear. They'll learn everything they can, and I don't think you'll enjoy that. Then we'll use what they learn to make the rest of your little empire of bigotry go bye-bye. Not that you'll be around to know it."

Hahn actually laughed. "Oh, certainly, I will be dead very shortly," he agreed. "But I will strike a great blow on my way out. Do you know the Biblical story of Samson?" When they didn't take the bait, his grin only widened. "He was captured by his enemies, and thought to be helpless. But in his moment of death, he killed all of them."

"What are you blabbing about?" demanded Tony.

"I knew you would find me," gloated the dirty blond, a manic gleam in his pale blue eyes. "I took my greatest weapon and infected myself so I could infect every single one of you!" His howling laugh dissolved into a rumbling cough.

"Tony! Close your visor!" cried a horrified Steve.

Nat whipped a hood over Hahn's face and called, "Knock him out or slit his throat?" Tony answered the question for her by hitting the villain with a propulsor blast strong enough to knock his head against the side of the plane, immediately knocking him out.

"Do we have oxygen masks?" asked Bruce, in doctor mode. Clint toggled some switch and masks descended from the ceiling. Nat moved to put Clint's on him – it was standard procedure to take care of your pilot before yourself – but he shook his head.

"No, I need the high altitude one, so I can make calls." She switched gears and helped him put on a mask similar to the ones worn by pilots in traditional fighter jets, then pulled on her own mask. Besides Clint, who was flying and already calling SHIELD, and Tony, who had the Iron Man helmet closed, the Avengers all looked at each other for a moment, eyes wide above their masks.

"Okay," said Bruce, muffled through the mask. "Luckily, these are much better than the masks on commercial planes, but we have to assume we've all been exposed to whatever it is that Hahn was making. We'll have to be quarantined when we land." He took a long breath. "Does anyone know how long we'll still be in the air?"

"About 90 minutes yet," answered Tony. "Uh, I have isolation chambers in the tower. They aren't made to be comfy, but I'd much rather be there and have my own medical people on this than anywhere else."

Bruce quizzed him on the level of containment his units could offer, and the others simply listened, content to let the experts figure out the best place for them to be. Steve in particular was quieter than usual, feeling this was far outside his strategic expertise. "That sounds ideal, Tony," admitted Bruce after a short conversation.

"Fury's good with it," reported Clint, who had apparently been listening and negotiating with the director while they were talking. "He'll have a team meet us there, but says they will integrate with the people you already have on-site."

"Do we have any information at all on this virus?"asked Steve, but he knew the answer before Bruce shrugged and Tony shook his head.

"We didn't even know that's what he was doing," sighed Bruce. "We weren't actually exposed to anything for very long, though, so it may be just hopeful thinking on his part."

"I can keep searching for his other labs," offered Thor. "I am not human and am unlikely to be susceptible to Midgardian diseases."

"We have to be sure," disagreed Steve, shaking his head. "We can't risk you getting sick without medical support around." Thor looked mutinous, so the soldier quickly added, "And we can't risk that you could be a carrier and could share it with others, no matter how helpful it could be to have you looking." Thor's shoulders slumped and Steve could sympathize. This wasn't an enemy they could fight with hammer and fists.

"If there is a virus and he's not just trying to scare us, and if any of us got infected, and if we can't fight it off on our own, we'll still have world class medical personnel working on helping us," reasoned Nat. Her measured words might have calmed them if, at that moment, Hahn hadn't wheezed twice and stopped breathing.


	2. Containment

_There's a lot of background stuff in this chapter, but more character study and interaction is coming soon. Reviews and comments would be greatly appreciated!_

CHAPTER 2: Containment

Avengers tower, 95th floor balcony

Hour 3

Under direction from a SHIELD expert, Clint had dictated to them what to expect when they arrived at the tower.

First, there were makeshift showers right on the balcony itself – thank goodness it was July and not January. Each Avenger stripped inside their own little pod, and scrubbed "every single nook and cranny" three times with the soft soap provided. Then the water stopped and a blower dried them somewhat. They moved into an attached pod and pulled on the provided scrubs, booties, and finally hazmat suit. When they were ready, the air in their little pod was decontaminated, a short but very loud process. They then stepped through a little door and were escorted by a scientist in their own hazmat suit into the elevator and to special a medical floor.

There, each Avenger was given their own airtight chamber. They were long, narrow rooms with a shorter, "air lock" room on the end. The rooms adjoined and all walls were clear. Each had a tiny bathroom that was a shower stall with a toilet in it, the only place that had solid walls. The floor was extremely low-pile carpet, and the only furniture a single bed. They were to enter the first chamber of their designated room, wait for the signal, then remove the hazmat suit and move to the main chamber. Natasha found herself impressed that someone had found both scrubs and a hazmat suit that fit Thor.

The room around the chambers offered nothing of interest. It was a very long rectangle, with the elevator at one end and a few doors on an otherwise unrelieved white wall. The area of the room was a little more than twice the size of the chambers alone.

Clint was put into the first, then Natasha, Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Thor. There were 2 more empty chambers beyond Thor.

Once they were in, the main room itself was completely emptied of air and refilled, and scientists – and Pepper and Nick Fury – came in. Then came the hardest part. In a very honest conversation, they had discussed the possibility that a virus could cause hallucinations. "JARVIS," called Tony, looking away from Pepper's tears, "until I am released from containment," he swallowed, "you are not to take any orders from me, unless they are confirmed by Nick Fury. This order is rescinded when I am declared virus free and released."

"Actually," said Fury, "there is someone else you should give that control to. I'm going to be out finding that virus and getting an antidote. I have someone else who will be overseeing your care." The elevator at the end of the room dinged, and two lab-coat wearing men walked out with –

"Coulson?" gasped Steve.

The agent smiled in his calm way. "I'm sorry for the subterfuge. I did die, but was brought back with some pretty intensive work. But we had to keep it secret."

"I would hug you if I could, son of Coul!" hollered Thor, and everyone smiled, a little more light-hearted despite the seriousness of the situation.

"You could tell your spies there, though?" demanded Tony, having noticed Clint and Nat hadn't shown the same level of surprise as the rest.

Fury raised an eyebrow as if interested in that answer himself. "I didn't tell them anything," Coulson's smile never wavered. "They came to me, and I made them promise not to reveal my secrets to anyone else, no matter how much they, or I would have liked to."

Bruce shook his head, as if weary of spies and their games.

Coulson gestured towards his two companions. "These are the head researchers. Dr. Jerry Connor," a tall, patrician man with graying black hair nodded, "is probably the world's leading epidemiologist. He has studied weaponized viruses and single-handedly developed four different cures or vaccinations for previously deadly diseases. Dr. Leonard Stan," a smaller man with a mane of white hair nodded in turn. "is a internal medical specialist with a gift for seeing problems and stopping them before they really get started. He has a knack for identifying difficult to quantify symptoms. Dr. Connor will be working in the lab to identify the virus and create a cure. Dr. Stan will be overseeing your day-to-day care. Both are the best at what they do and personally vetted by me."

"You will be provided every luxury we can fit through your door," continued Fury. "What we need from you most is calm. Some of you," he glanced at Thor," could probably get out of containment without too much trouble, but that could spell disaster and death for the people who are working to take care of you, not to mention the general public. It has already been suggested to me that was keep you all unconscious until we have a cure --" Clint stepped forward, but Fury lifted a hand. "But we are extending our trust to you. Know that the option will only be taken if there is no other choice."

Clint glared up at the tiny vents in the ceiling that provided his air but said nothing.

Fury looked back at Thor again. "Thor, we are putting sensors on Mjolnir. If it moves more than an inch or two, we will have to flood your chamber with gas to knock you out. Do you understand?"

Thor's jaw was clenched, as were his fists, but he breathed deeply through his nose and nodded. "Yes. It is grievous but I will not put everyone at risk by calling Mjolnir and putting holes in our … cells."

"I'm sorry they aren't nicer," grimaced Tony. "But yeah, they were meant to be cells. I thought if those Chitauri or other nasty aliens came, we might need a place to keep any we nabbed alive. I didn't really intend to hang out here." Thor nodded again.

"We understand," Steve addressed Fury and Coulson. He gaze strayed to Tony. "And I for one am glad you had these. There could be a whole lot worse places to stay. So. What can we do to help?"

Coulson looked apologetic. "Nothing for now, except to stay calm, let us know if you need anything, and allow the medical personnel to run whatever tests they need."

"I have a plane to catch," said Fury. "I will check in often." His jaw ticked. "No two-bit mad scientist with a chip on his shoulder is taking my Avengers." He nodded to each person and strode out.

Dr. Connor excused himself too, and took a moment to study the screen next to each chamber door. On the left of each chamber door was a simple number pad to allow entry. On the right was an entire screen of information. The Avengers couldn't read the screens from their side, but it was apparent that medical information was displayed. Clint glared around his glass cage again. The thought of not only being seen at all times, but constantly monitored was suffocating.

"Clint," hissed Nat, and he realized that Dr. Stan was explaining that he needed baseline blood and urine samples from each of them. He had a kindly manner and asked them to behave with his technicians, who would have to enter to draw the blood, as it was a risky situation for them even with hazmat suits, at least until they knew the manner of the virus and who was infected. The technicians would come as soon as they worked out the practicalities, he said. Then he was gone too.

Now Phil Coulson proved his value. It turned out Dum – E was excellent at delivering, and could be decontaminated in a quarter of the time of a human. The bot brought blankets and sheets, comfy slippers, bags of toiletries, and large floor pillows to make the areas more pleasant. He also brought simple snacks, fluffy towels, a laundry bag, and a couple of simple outfits for each Avenger. Pepper was relieved to have something to do, and worked to coordinate much of this. She and Coulson together were terrifyingly efficient, Tony thought.

It was close to 9:30 pm by now, and the team used their postage stamp bathrooms to climb into pajamas and get ready for bed, at Coulson's gentle suggestion. Clint had gray fleece pajama pants and a simple white sleeveless t-shirt. Nat looked surprisingly cuddly in a warm maroon sleep set and slippers. Tony had a light blue long-sleeved silk pajama set he'd asked for to make Pepper smile. Steve had tan athletic shorts and a fitted white t-shirt, while Bruce had black flannel pants and a gray henley. Thor didn't have any pajamas at the tower, and Pepper apologized that they had had to make do. So he found himself in a red and green plaid pair of pants and slightly too small fuzzy green shirt with a reindeer on it. This didn't bother Thor in the slightest, but made everyone else laugh.

Of course, when they were ready to get settled in, the technicians finally came. By the time they were done, Tony had finagled for a massive television to be installed across from the little rooms. He commandeered the remote, of course. "I'm sure nobody's exactly ready to sleep yet, so how about a good, classic movie?" He clicked a button and started the 1997 action movie Independence Day. "I know aliens attacking Earth is kind of out there, but I think you'll enjoy it," he deadpanned.

Coulson declined to stay, but Pepper curled up on a beanbag Dum-E had dragged in for her and they all tried to pretend it was just a normal movie night. Sure, thought Tony. A perfectly ordinary night hanging out in the cells he had designed to hold dangerous aliens.


	3. Introspection

_Time for some good ol' character angst. I didn't intend to write any of this from Coulson's perspective, but sometimes the story does what it wants to!__I hope you enjoy it...and I would really appreciate any reviews!_

CHAPTER 3: Introspection

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 6

Coulson went into the next room and stared at the preliminary results of their initial tests. His eyes kept drifting back to the monitors that showed the six Avengers. He felt like the stalker that Tony had once accused him of being, but he couldn't force himself to leave. He comforted himself with the knowledge that they all knew about the cameras and had consented to the containment.

Containment. He swallowed. They were caged. It didn't matter what you called it or that they had consented or that they might be able to get out if they chose to do so. No, in the end, the world's greatest heroes were stuck in small cages originally designed to hold dangerous criminals or aliens. The trappings of comfort couldn't hide the purpose of the pods, and it was harder than he'd imagined to see these six in them.

There was Thor. Coulson let himself smile a little, remembering how a few of his men had literally peed themselves after Thor had essentially come back to life, destroyed the guardian, then landed in front of them. Coulson knew that standing up to the god at that moment had done more for his own mythos than anything else, but he'd really only been doing his job. He had had his freak out moment in private later – not fear, but excitement. I mean, how many people got to meet a god, a Nordic legend in person? And then Thor had proved his words, saying they were on the same side, by coming back to help find the scepter. Coulson sighed. He hoped Thor wouldn't regret that decision.

Then there was Bruce. Brilliant mind, kind soul, and self-termed monster. He had hidden from his other nature, had dedicated himself to doing good, and had been dragged into their fight. They could justify it all they wanted, but Coulson knew that it took a piece of him every single time he transformed. Yet he didn't quit. Would he die for that choice? Would his mind and heart and ferocity be lost to this virus?

More reluctantly yet, Coulson turned to the next man, who sat with perfect posture even while watching a late night movie. Steve Rogers. War hero. Larger than life. Coulson's personal childhood idol. The man seemed unbreakable, untouchable, both physically and morally, but he was still human. As a good soldier, he stayed in his little space, though it must have been hell for a man of action, a man who hardly slept, and a man who detested feeling helpless. He not only stayed, he sought to lead from inside his cage, being as ever, the voice of reason. Coulson wondered briefly what it would do to Steve if he had to contain one of his teammates – or if one or more of them died. Coulson's hands clenched into fists, and he turned to the next screen.

Tony Stark. Coulson had argued against asking Stark to be an Avenger. He'd taken great joy in exchanging barbs with and frustrating the man. But that was before he saw him in action. He knew the man had put himself in danger to stop the helicarrier from crashing, when he could have simply flown away to safety. He knew he'd flown the nuke through the wormhole expecting it would be a one-way ticket. It was rare to see someone transform personal pain into something positive, but that's exactly what the crazy genius had done. He might seem volatile, but everyone knew he'd risk his own life to save yours, and then play if off with a one-liner. Coulson could admit that the world would certainly be poorer without Tony Stark in it.

Coulson cowardly looked down at the reports before moving on to the next two Avengers, but there was no comfort in the words there. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to look at the small redhead. She was half of the greatest 2-person team in the history of SHIELD, but she was never meant to be there. She was a reformed assassin and an honorable spy, and gaining her trust was one of Coulson's greatest achievements. He'd saved her life once, and she'd saved his a few times. He was one of only a few people who had seen her injured and vulnerable, but he knew her strength better than most too. She was a lily made of iron – beautiful and unbreakable. She was still human, still at risk. He'd promised her once that he would always have her back, and having her trapped like this felt a bit like betrayal.

As close as he was to the infamous Black Widow, the final screen was the hardest to look at of all. Despite the clarity of the image, he didn't see what it really showed him. No, in his mind, the battle-hardened assassin and only man allowed to watch Natasha's back morphed into a desperate teenager, heartbreakingly brave as he faced down five armed men he thought were there to kill him. Coulson saw a 17-year-old unwilling to kill to save himself, and frantically trying to appear unafraid. He saw the immensely talented recruit trying to ignore the taunts of those who discovered he had left formal schooling after 5th grade, and the cockiness that hid his insecurities. He saw the man who had taken on the impossible task of going after the Black Widow knowing she'd killed 4 of his comrades, and the man willing to take a chance on reeling in her lost soul. Coulson closed his eyes, suddenly unwilling to look at any of them.

Normally, by this point in a really difficult case, Fury might have walked by and yelled at him to get some rest, but his boss was out looking for a needle in a world-sized haystack. More common, Nat would come sit cross-legged right on top of his desk and pester him until he relaxed or gave up for the night. When she'd won, she'd give him one of those little smiles that was precious for its scarcity. Or most likely of all, Clint would come in and make snarky comments until he laughed and let a little of his tension go. Coulson leaned back in his chair and took a few deep breaths. When his legendary calm was back in place, he silently swore to every one of the Avengers that he would find a cure for them.


	4. Sickle

CHAPTER 4: Sickle

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 11

Steve laid perfectly still on the small bed. His feet hanging off the end of the bed reminded him of a teenage Bucky trying to curl his already-tall frame onto the trundle bed he used for sleep overs. This was better than that, if the mattress was a bit thin. But it wasn't the bed that kept him awake. He went over the mission plan and briefing in his head over and over, trying to see what clues he might have missed. Had there been anything that had indicated Hahn had the capacity for biological attacks? Had anything indicated he might sacrifice himself for a grand gesture? Had he missed something and put his team at risk?

He didn't need much sleep anyway, and couldn't shut down his mind. He had very little doubt that his own body would fight off the virus if necessary, but what about the others? He'd realized quickly that the three most likely to get sick were in the first three rooms, and he and Thor flanked the biggest threat. He was sure their order was no accident. What would he do if his teammates did begin to get sick? Could he identify the pattern he must have missed? Could he live with himself if someone died?

To calm himself, Steve took stock of everything around him. Pepper had left after the movie, and Bruce seemed to be sleeping calmly. Thor snored lightly, sprawled on a giant nest of pillows instead of on the little bed. Tony slept too, though he rolled back and forth over and over again as if missing his king sized bed. Nat and Clint were in the closest corner, back-to-back, so between them they could see the entire room. Nat appeared to be lightly dozing, but Steve was certain she was alert. Clint perched on his pillows quietly but never stopped scanning his surroundings. Maybe he was the smartest, not even pretending to sleep. Steve sighed soundlessly.

By 7am, Clint, Natasha, and Steve had given up the pretense of sleep and had showered and dressed. Steve bumped elbows and knees and even his head trying to maneuver in the minuscule bathroom. As he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks, the elevator opened and a trio of women pulled out a cart that smelled amazing. They proceeded to deliver a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, orange juice, and coffee to each chamber. Steve noted his portion was about double Nat's and smiled a little.

Tony grumbled something unintelligible and looked around blearily. Thor leapt up like he'd been shot from a cannon. But Bruce didn't move at all.

Everything was suddenly much busier. Coulson appeared with a whole team of lab coats in tow. One with a hazmat suit went in with Bruce while Dr. Stan was left fielding question from the rest of the Avengers.

"What is wrong with Dr. Banner?" demanded Thor, angrily smacking his palm on the wall when he was told nobody knew yet. Staring at his inert friend, Steve lifted his eyes to Thor's. Beyond the chaos of everyone's questions, the two exchanged a long look. They knew they were unlikely to get sick themselves, and silently shared their worry for their more vulnerable teammates. Steve felt like the Asgardian was commiserating with him. They desired to protect the others, but felt helpless. Although they didn't exchange a word, Steve felt a little better.

Thor stared at the man who seemed more Asgardian than human. There was suffering in Steve's eyes, and helplessness. Thor tried to silently send his support, his believe that they would triumph over this – virus.

Although Banner's alter ego was more than formidable, the man himself seemed so small lying on the bed. Could a virus too small to be seen really take down the Hulk?

Thor watched carefully as the man who'd entered Bruce's chamber gently turned the scientist onto his back, drew some blood, and hooked up an IV. He arranged Bruce in a comfortable position and tucked a blanket around him, then hooked up a few more monitors. His obvious care made Thor relax enough at least to eat some of his delicious breakfast, though he never looked away from Bruce.

"What can you tell us?" Nat was asking, and Thor realized that Dr. Stan and Coulson were addressing all of them.

"First of all, we don't know much about Dr. Banner's condition," the doctor admitted. All of his stats are steady, and though he's a little warm, there's nothing we can find that should keep him unconscious. He has evidence of the virus in his body, but again, his catatonic state is unexplained so far. He is on the IV just to stay hydrated and nourished." He hesitated. "For the next few hours, that is all we are going to do, unless his situation changes." He looked at Coulson, who readily responded to the cue.

"We need all of you to take care of yourselves. We're starting to get a picture of this virus, and it's not pretty. Do your best to eat and rest and stay calm. If there is any food or drink you want, we'll get it, besides alcohol, Tony." The billionaire grumbled and put the hand he'd raised back down.

"What does this virus do?" Asked Nat. She could tell that neither man wanted to answer.

"And who else shows evidence of it in their blood work?" added Steve.

"I have a little presentation to help me explain what the virus does, as far as we can tell," Phil responded. "We are telling you everything that we know. Please stay calm. Thor, Mjolnir is trembling. Can you try to relax?"

Thor unclenched his fists, took a breath and sat back on his bed. "I am calm, son of Coul."

"Thank you." The agent clicked something in his hand, and a diagram of some cells appeared on the TV.

Tony snickered, then coughed something that sounded like, "nerd."

Coulson simply ignored him. "The virus is different from any known viruses, although it appears that it its exterior resembles tuberculosis. It acts differently inside of a host, however. The first molecules look for a soft place to attach. Mucus membranes work, but it specifically likes lung tissue. Once enough clusters of cells have attached, they combine to form a sickle shape and work themselves deeper into the tissue." The TV showed the cells attaching to the inside of a lung and forming into a barb. "Then, the virus seems to move into a second mode. It begins to multiply extremely rapidly, much faster than any known virus. And it's not picky where in the lungs it attached. It will quickly fill aveoli and bronchiole. We are looking for a way to inhibit its growth, to open areas its already gotten into, and of course, kill it. Dr. Connor has some ideas about each, but nothing concrete yet. If you feel that your breathing is impaired at all, you need to let us know immediately."

"Who else shows signs of the virus?" Steve repeated quietly.

Coulson's eyes tightened slightly, but he answered, "Everyone except Thor and Agent Romanoff." Too many emotions to catch washed over the faces of the Avengers.

"Then you can release the two of us, and we can help Fury in locating the labs!" insisted Thor, rising to his feet again.

"Not yet, I'm sorry," Coulson shook his head. "We have to make absolutely sure you aren't carrying any trace of it. Dr. Connor says if there's no sign 24 hours after exposure, you're in the clear. We just can't risk exposing anyone else until we are certain."

"We understand," said Nat before Thor could answer.

"Please let us know if you would like more details, or if there is anything else we can do to make you more comfortable, please let us know," added Dr. Stan. He looked anxious, and Nat wondered if he felt helpless to care for his patients while the epidemiologist worked.

"Not unless you can give us a little more room for changing," said Steve ruefully. "I hardly even fit in that bathroom, and I'm sure it's the same for Thor."

Dr. Stan frowned. "I do not know what we could do logistically, but I will look into it."

Nobody else had any suggestions. After all, how do you respond when you've just learned that four of the six of you are dying?


	5. Distraction

_AN: This is kind of a filler chapter. I promise more action soon!_

CHAPTER 5: Distraction

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 17

Not long after breakfast was cleared away, hazmat-wearing workmen had entered each unit and set up Asian-style panels that enclosed the back of each area, allowing for a space four times the size of the bathrooms that was private from cameras and other people. Steve had – briefly – smiled.

Then, Natasha decided that they were all going to do yoga and had bullied everyone into putting on comfortable clothing. Then she lead them in an entire lesson, starting simple and working up to forms that required a lot more balance and grace than they appeared. Coulson helpfully projected her camera onto the TV so those not next to her could still see what she was showing them.

Nat herself performed every move with apparent ease. Clint had been through this before, and did well, though he tended to pop from one form to the next instead of flowing as Nat repeatedly told him. He only smirked and she rolled her eyes with the air of someone who had been through this before.

Tony struggled the most, a lot because he was impatient and grabbed the wall too quickly whenever he began to lose his balance even slightly. Still, he stuck with it.

Steve and Thor had the agility for every move, but struggled the way bulkier men always did. Yoga was designed for the sleek and lean more than for those with large muscles. Nat could admit she was impressed with everyone, though. She had thrown some really difficult poses at them, admittedly as a distraction, and they had all done every single one. There were a few creative curses, but they accomplished them all.

"My turn," said Clint when they were finished, ignoring Tony's groan. "Now we're all warmed up for some martial arts forms." He didn't give them a chance to argue before starting basic Aikido moves. The TV obligingly switched to show him.

Everyone did well at this. Steve had sparred with all of them, and Tony had taken karate as a child. Nat knew the moves as well as Clint did, and they were easy for Thor, as they were similar to fighting moves he'd learned on Asgard. Like the yoga, it was an excellent distraction. None of the Avengers were good at sitting still, Clint knew. Well, except...he kept his eyes from straying to Bruce. Nobody would have expected the big guy to go down. He deliberately wrenched his thoughts away and finished his lesson.

On cue, Coulson emerged again. "We need another round of blood tests," he announced.

"Can't we shower first?" grumbled Tony.

"Of course. I'll tell the technicians to give you half an hour."

"A girl can't take a shower and be ready in that time," snarked the billionaire, glancing at Nat to see if she'd rise to the bait.

"You're just grumpy because my yoga was too hard for you." She didn't even look at him as she gathered her clothes for after the shower.

"Half an hour," repeated Coulson. "Oh, and I have some good news. There is no evidence that the virus is growing in Dr. Banner's lungs. We still don't know why he's unconscious, but this is definitely a positive thing."

"Thank you for the screens, Phil," said Cap before the agent could excuse himself. Coulson just nodded. He wished there was more he could do, but for now, he had a call to make to his boss.

While in the shower, Tony began to cough.


	6. Good NewsBad News

CHAPTER 6: Good News/Bad News

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 22

Things had progressed very quickly after Tony came out of the shower coughing. He was obviously trying to be quiet about it, but to his annoyance, Steve noticed right away.

"Tony, are you all right?" he'd asked, eyebrows lowered.

"Fine, just a tickle," lied Tony, but Steve wasn't fooled and called for help.

Tony glared, but was grabbed by a coughing fit that left him unable to answer for a few minutes.

In short order, suited-up technicians had entered his chamber with a portable x-ray machine. They took blood samples, made him perform tests that involved a lot of blowing into a tube to get a ball to move (and a lot of dirty jokes from Tony), took a chest x-ray, and gave Tony an inhaler. They gave him strict instructions to take the inhaler every hour. They also left the fancy tube and told him to take a deep breath and blow into it as fast and hard as he could before and after each inhaler. This lead to another string of dirty jokes.

But Tony's jokes faded away when the techs all left and he saw Pepper standing outside the chamber, her hands pressed against the wall. Her face sobered him immediately. "It's okay, Pep," he insisted, while Steve and Nat turned away to give them at least the impression of privacy.

She silently shook her head, tears in her eyes.

"C'mon. We've faced worse! Don't you know Fury doesn't allow people to die on his watch?"

"Oh, Tony. I'm just...I just get scared for you." Tears filled her eyes.

"I know. I know. Have faith, honey. I'll be better and holding you soon."

This time she nodded. "You're right. I know." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I love you, Tony."

"Love you, too."

Pepper had to go – she didn't want to break down in front of everyone. But in her own, classy way, she took a moment to say something to each of the other Avengers who were awake.

As she left, Tony muttered, "At least nobody will expect me to exercise now."

"You called that exercising, Stark?" called Clint from the end, causing Nat to chuckle.

"Hey --" Tony started to respond, but was interrupted by a thunk.

"The hell – ?" complained Bruce from flat on his face on the floor.

"Bruce?" called Thor, Tony, and Nat, at the same time Steve called for help and Clint demanded to know what happened.

There was a lot more rushing as medical personnel suited up and swarmed the sleepy and confused scientist. Again, they performed a flurry of tests, and by the time they were done, Coulson, Connor, and Stan were all outside the chamber waiting for reports. They'd all gotten used to the time decontamination took, but it seemed extra slow this time.

Stan kept up a steady stream of questions for Bruce until finally the latter shook his head, and said in frustration, "I feel absolutely great, except that I'm really hungry. Could I get a sandwich and some green tea and we can finish this conversation afterwards?"

Stan's face lit up, and it was clear in that moment that this was a doctor who really cared about his patients. "Absolutely! What kind of sandwich? What else would you like to eat or drink?"

Bruce relaxed and sat on the edge of the bed. "The only other thing I want is information."

Bruce removed his own IV, ate his quickly-procured lunch, and even drew some of his blood to pass out of the chamber while Coulson and Stan filled him in on everything that had happened and all that they had learned. "What is the progress of the virus now?" he asked quietly when they had finished. The two men outside his chamber exchanged glances, and realized that everyone in the room had gone quiet to listen.

"There is still no evidence of any virus in Mr. Thor and Agent Romanoff," Connor said at last. Clint sighed in relief. "Mr. Thor may not have the right physiology for the virus to flourish, or he may not have breathed enough of it in. Ms. Romanoff is the statistically fortunate one." He glanced at Coulson for approval, and, having received a nod, continued, "we were about to release them before we were happily distracted."

Coulson went to the doors of Thor's and Nat's chambers, punched in the appropriate numbers, and the two sets of doors hissed open. "Your virus numbers were almost zero at our last check," the agent continued Connor's narrative. "The smart guys believe your...gamma radiation exposure has literally burned the virus away. You will probably be released by this evening if you have two completely clear blood tests."

Bruce nodded his understanding, obviously thinking everything through. "What about the rest?"

Only someone who knew Coulson well would see the distress this question caused him. "Steve's numbers are going down slowly. The infection tried to take hold, but he seems to be fighting it off on his own. Tony and Clint..." the words trailed off.

"The virus is multiplying rapidly in their bodies," finished Stan softly when it became apparent that Coulson couldn't continue. "We are actually surprised that they don't have more symptoms yet." Tony's quiet, desperate coughing punctuated his statement.

Dr. Connor spoke up again. "I think we should consider trying an infusion of Dr. Banner's blood --"

"No." Bruce's head snapped up. "No, that is a terrible idea. A last ditch effort. Natasha," he made eye contact with the woman who was now outside his pod, "don't let them do this. Even a drop of my blood killed a man once. Or it could..." He shook his head in frustration. "Phil, don't let that happen."

"It's a last resort," promised Coulson. "Actually, there was some discussion about trying to use Steve's blood, but we have to get him completely healthy first."

"I'm fine," inserted Steve. He was on his feet, as close to the people outside the pods as he could possibly get, jaw ticking with agitation. "I can give blood immediately."

"You may have my blood too," burst in Thor. Like Steve, he was desperate to do something, anything, to help the others.

Coulson smiled gently. "Thank you both for the offer. But we can't right now. Steve, as long as your blood still has the virus in it, a transfusion could do more harm than good. What if your body has altered the virus and we'd be introducing a second strain into their bodies? And Thor, your blood is just too different from a human's. Their bodies would reject it." Both blondes' faces dropped at the news.

"Coulson, you've been spending too much time with the scientists," said Clint into the silence. He was trying to break the tension. "You're starting to sound like them." Instead of smiling, Nat and Steve both frowned at the gravelly quality of his voice.

But before anyone could comment, Tony's coughing – which had not stopped for the entire conversation – grew so severe the man fell to his knees. "Tony!" shouted Steve, noticing the flecks of blood on the former's lips. Tony was on his hands and knees, unable to answer. Vaguely, he heard the sounds of Coulson calling Pepper to get down there, and registered that many hazmat-wearing people were entering with Tony, including Dr. Stan himself. But it was all distant as he stared sightlessly through the wall. Would Tony die right in front of all of them held uselessly in a cage of his own making? Would the mission – the mission Steve had lead – actually kill the larger-than-life genius? Was Steve once again the skinny kid helpless to make a difference? He realized his hands were actually shaking.

Then he could hear again. Thor was standing inside of the little room leading to Steve's chamber, so close to the wall his chest almost touched it. "Steven. Steven!" It seemed like he'd been trying to get his friend's attention for a while. "Do not hit the wall, Captain." He voice had changed from imploring to commanding, the voice of authority he so seldom used. But it worked. Steve had served in the army long enough that he was conditioned to respond. He looked down and realized that his knuckles were bloody. He hadn't even realized that he was hitting the wall.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I know," said Thor, relaxing. Steve only then realized how stiffly the god had been holding himself, and that he was holding Mjolnir. Awareness dawned. "I'm okay now, Thor. You don't have to come in." He closed his eyes. The very last thing he wanted to do was to be another problem. He couldn't believe that Thor had almost had to come in to try to restrain him. With disgust, he stepped into the bathroom and washed his hands. The knuckles were almost healed already, denying him even that bit of penance.

When he stepped out, Thor was still there. "We will not lose to this...virus, my friend," the big man said quietly. "Either we will find the cure with Fury, or they will build an answer here, or our valiant human friends will fight it off on their own. I have learned to not underestimate you Midgardians."

"Yes, yes, you're right Thor." Steve leaned against the wall as if he could no longer stand. His eyes lit on Pepper, standing with her hands clasped and her face pale but stoic. His gaze followed her to Tony, now propped up on the bed with a few people still fussing around him and a nebulizer mask over his face. Then he looked past Thor at Natasha, but she was looking the other direction. Steve's eyes bounced in the direction and he saw that Clint was sitting on his bed, looking a bit gray. And as Steve watching him, the archer began to cough


	7. Escalation

CHAPTER 7: Escalation

Avengers tower, isolation floor

Hour 28

Tony's body was betraying him. He was propped on the bed at a 45 degree angle, with heavy pillows behind him and on either side. There was an IV in his arm, pumping fluids and a mild sedative and muscle relaxer. The meds were the only thing they had found to keep him from coughing fits so severe they didn't end until he passed out from lack of air. They thought he wasn't aware of what was going on, but he had heard them talk about the next step – a ventilator. He knew that would come with full sedation too, and he really didn't want to just go to sleep and never wake up.

His whole body felt so numb. The meds kept him almost completely unable to move, and the hiss of the oxygen through the mask on his face covered most of the noise around him. With effort, he could turn his head. He could see nothing at all to his left, but to his right, he thought there was another figure on a bed in the distance.

He fought off sleep by trying to remember everyone's situation. Bruce was okay now, right? And Thor and Natasha. He thought maybe Steve was too. He was grateful that they weren't in his position. He'd had nightmares that all of them died except for him. A frown creased his brow. What about Barton? He couldn't remember if the archer was sick or not, and his stomach turned. He was sick, wasn't he?

Tony turned his head to the right again. "Clint?" he tried to say, but he wasn't sure that he made any noise at all. Instead, he started coughing again, and a monitor began to beep loudly. Yellow suits crowded around him, and he was maneuvered and manipulated like a doll. The Iron Man suits couldn't save him after all, he thought. Now his own body was just another broken suit.

While Tony was drifting through his scattered thoughts, disaster nearly struck across the room. Clint had so far refused an oxygen mask or oxygenation sensor. His coughing was still intermittent, so they had reluctantly allowed it despite having Tony's example of just how fast things could get very, very serious.

When the last of the medical staff had left him alone and it became apparent his wishes would be followed, Clint sat on his nest of pillows and blankets in the corner of his space where he could see the entire room and watch Tony. He was pleased to see that someone had let Steve out of his own chamber. One to go, he thought. He teammates were almost all safe. He knew it was not entirely logical, but he was responding like they were under hostile fire. He felt that if he could watch Tony's back, somehow everything would end up okay in the end. Nat, Fury, and Thor were attacking the enemy on one front, while Bruce was fighting in a different way. Steve, like Clint himself, was watching over their ailing team member. While Clint knew that even on a typical op, not everyone always survived, somehow he felt that this team could not fail to save Tony.

He had not slept in over 36 hours, and his body was working very hard against the insidious virus. So, despite his deep-seated need to keep watch, his eyelids began to travel inexorably down. Jerking himself up, Clint went through his techniques from his sniper days. He tightened and released each section of his muscles one at a time to improve blood flow, mentally reviewed every exit in the place and each person he could see, bit his tongue, dug his nails into his palms, and cataloged everything he could see, feel, and smell.

Angrily, Clint shook himself awake again. What was the problem with him? He was tired, but even sick he shouldn't be this exhausted. He quickly calculated that he'd slept maybe 5 hours out of the last 2 days, which wasn't as extreme as it sounded, at least not for him. He took another deep breath and figured out what was bothering him. There was a different smell to the air than there had been before. It wasn't just slightly stale and antiseptic, there was a hint of some new chemical. Rage pumped adrenaline through him, helping him maintain a bit of alertness, though he could feel the lethargy in his body.

C'mon, c'mon, he thought. There is an endgame to this – somebody would be coming in when they thought he was completely incapacitated, he was sure of it. As it became more and more difficult to stay aware, his need to figure out what was happening sharpened to a more and more specific focus. His world narrowed more and more until all that was left was protect Tony, stay awake. He knew someone had put him in this situation, and he was going to fix it.

So, when a yellow-suited figure bent over him and attempted to place something over his face, he reacted. Violently. He grabbed the figure's wrist and twisted it toward himself even as he pushed up and back. He couldn't completely keep his own balance, so he allowed himself to fall forward with the yelping figure, so they ended up on the floor with the man on his face underneath Clint, with his wrist trapped between them, twisted behind his back.

Clint panted for a moment, far too out of breath, but he didn't have the capacity to evaluate why right now. "Who are you? What are you doing?" he growled, and had to cough. The yellow suit triggered something in his memory, but he wasn't getting enough oxygen and he couldn't remember why.

Someone was yelling his name, and it was a voice he knew. He didn't want them in danger, so he twisted the wrist higher and reached for the man's hood. The voices around him got louder and he paused for a few seconds. Was there a reason he shouldn't do this?

A door hissed open loudly, and someone came up behind him. Again, they were talking but his vision was tunneling and he couldn't identify the words. Yet, his instinct had been honed by years of training, so when a hand came toward his shoulder, he attacked.

This time, he found himself pinning a man to the wall, a forearm against the taller man's neck. Blinking, he registered a few things: the man he had attacked was not fighting back, but was standing passively with hands calmly at his sides despite the pressure on his neck, the man was not wearing one of the yellow suits, and it was someone he knew.

Clint looked at the familiar face and backed off on the pressure a little. "Steve? What – ?"

Steve looked undisturbed and his deep voice was level. "Clint, you are safe. These people are trying to help us fight the virus." He pointed to the man who was still on the ground, though he had rolled onto his back. Clint could make out the fear on the man's face, and slowly realized that it was a technician who had taken blood before, and that the man was still holding the – oxygen mask? – that he'd been putting on Clint.

"What's in the air? S-someone is trying to knock us out," stuttered Clint. "I thought...is Tony safe?"

"Yeah, he's safe. Coulson is taking care of things, remember? And Bruce and some doctors are trying to make a cure from my blood." Steve surreptitiously waved back the three other people who had finally entered the pod, having had to suit up before they could even start the process of getting into the sealed room. He set his other hand gently on the arm that was still against his neck. "Clint, it's okay."

"Okay. Okay. Sorry." Clint stepped back and stumbled. Steve caught his arm as he began to cough. And cough. And cough. A strange, half-panicked, half-resigned look crossed Clint's face, and Steve barely caught him before he hit the floor.


	8. Destruction

AN: Time for a little action! Warning: there is a little bit of language in this one.

CHAPTER 8: Destruction

Somewhere over Greenland

Hour 30

Natasha re-checked her gear for the fourth time. Though she presented a calm front, her OCD was most obvious right before a mission. She had to check the gear five times if she approached a mission in a Quinjet. There were other rules for missions she drove to or walked to, according to the inexplicable rules her mind had constructed when she was a child being trained. She wasn't afraid of the mission, but she was afraid of failure, and only the carefully orchestrated steps helped reassure her. Oddly enough, she didn't mind sudden firefights and unexpected situations, but when a mission was planned ahead of time, she felt physical pain if she deviated too much from her steps.

The sat phone she carried buzzed and she stowed her final knife in her boot in irritation. She knew she had to answer, but the deviation chafed. "Widow," she answered crisply, but her entire demeanor changed as soon as she heard the voice on the other end. The rest of the call was mostly her listening, and asking a few short questions. Then, very quietly, she said, "Thank you for letting me know. I'll call with an update in a couple hours."

She hung up and tucked the phone away, then sat forward, allowing her hands to dangle between her knees.

"Is everything...okay?" asked Thor. He had respected her preparation, recognizing that every soldier had a routine before battle, so they had hardly spoken.

Nat sighed and started to re-braid her hair. It was the first step of the final gear check and was routine enough for her to work as she talked. "That was Coulson. Clint has been getting worse, but was being a moron about wearing an oxygen mask. So one of the doctors thought he'd be smart and put a sedative in the air in Clint's cell, but Clint figured it out. The doc figured he was unconscious and went in to put the mask on, and Clint attacked him. He was really confused. Steve ended up running in without a hazmat suit on to talk Clint down. It worked, but Clint collapsed and is on oxygen and sedatives now." She closed her eyes.

"They were trying to make an antivirus from Steve's blood, but now he's been exposed again. They sent in some tools and had him dismantle a couple of the walls, so now there's just one big room with Steve, Clint, and Tony. And...Tony's on a ventilator." She looked up as she re-fastened the hair tie. "Thor, this will delay the cure and they just aren't sure how long until it's ready."

Thor leaned forward until their knees almost touched and clasped her forearm in the way of Asgardian warriors. "Fighting the disease is one front of this war, one that you and I are not a part of. But attacking the location Fury found? That we can do. That is the front that is our responsibility. Let us focus on that, not letting our friends' situation distract us, but motivate us." His normally cheerful face darkened and Nat could see the defender of the nine realms looking back at her. "And let's make those responsible pay."

Natasha gripped Thor's arm right back and a wicked gleam came into her eye. "You're right. Let's mess shit up."

They met up with Fury on a bleak landscape with only a few scraggly flowers growing. There were naked black hills to their northwest, but otherwise it was very flat, with shallow cracks throughout. Even though it was July, there was a chill in the air.

Fury introduced them quickly to the two agents he'd brought with him. Nat had expected more, since they'd taken a jet more than three times the size of the Quinjet her team had come in, but apparently Fury's resources were more restricted these days. Fury directed them inside his jet, where he had a large, crude map drawn out.

"There's an abandoned science station 2 klicks northwest," he tapped a spot just past the hills. "But all of the doors are new, and there are machine guns camouflaged all around it. There's also an outbuilding that's not on the schematics that's absolutely full of generators. I think they took over the existing building and built down from it."

"You've done some scouting." Natasha approved. People often forgot what a bad-ass Fury really was. He hadn't always been the director – he had plenty of training of his own.

Fury nodded. "There's some cameras, though, so it's not easy to get close without being seen."

"What's the plan then?" she knew he'd already created one.

"Thor, you need to fly in and take out those big guns, and quickly."

Thor tossed Mjolnir and caught it again, grinning. "No problem."

"Bring the lightening, be very distracting," Fury continued. Thor nodded. "Darcy and Finn will head to the generator building and rig it for explosives, then go back to the jets and bring them in closer." The pilot and demolitions experts Nat had brought both nodded. She noticed Finn's smirk was as big as Thor's. That woman loved blowing things up.

"Romanoff, you'll take point on the team moving in to take out security. Shock and awe. I want control of that building quickly. Hendricks and Leander will be right behind watching your back, and I will bring up the rear to watch for stragglers. Once we call the all-clear, Tandy and Phillips will come in and secure all of the non-security personnel. While this is happening, Thor, I want you to keep an eye on the sky and make sure nobody gets out and we don't get any company coming in. Everyone understand? Once the building is secure, Tandy and Phillips will change their focus to data retrieval, and the rest of us will remove our new friends to the bigger jet. Any questions?"

A few of the agents asked some clarifying questions, but they were soon ready to go. They hiked quickly to the hills, and settled in to watch the start of the action.

The station and outbuilding were incredibly innocuous. The station, especially, simply looked like a small, ancient, industrial building. It was weathered but sturdy, with a few small, high windows and a big, steel door. When Natasha squinted, she could see the outlines of three hidden platforms, and she's be willing to bet these were the guns Fury had mentioned, and that there was a fourth out of sight.

Fury gave Thor the word and the god swung Mjolnir, shooting high into the air. Electricity snapped, coalesced. With a roar, Thor pointed his hammer downward, and lightening flew down, arcing off in four directions, and striking the spots Nat had noticed. Huge hatches groaned and swung open, and guns the size of school buses rose from the ground. Obviously, the lightening hadn't been enough, but Thor wasn't deterred. Long before the guns could swing around to target him, he had landed next to the closest gun, the ground cracking under his feet, and pounded Mjolnir straight down on it. The gun crumpled like tin, and Thor was off to savage the others. In less than a minute, all four guns were out of commission. Nat noticed Tandy's mouth was hanging open and couldn't resist teasing the normally emotionless agent.

"Sorry, I think he's straight."

"So am I," replied the balding man. "But, damn."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nat had to smile. She was used to Thor's abilities by now, but they were truly awesome.

Nat's team moved quickly into place and bashed in the door. The security men on the main floor were all cowering in fear, making the entry anti-climactic. They even showed the team how to operate the freight-style elevator that was the only thing Nat could see that didn't look to be from the 1950's or even earlier. She supposed they'd been intimidated by Thor's destruction of their guns.

Luckily – at least in Nat's mind it was lucky – the next floor down presented more of a challenge. The security forces there were waiting by the elevator, but the five agents had expected that and had pressed themselves at the sides, so all gunfire missed them. As soon as it paused, Nat threw herself out of the elevator and tackled the first man, causing his four friends to go down too. Idiots were all clustered. She bound to her feet, kicked one man on the head, and grabbed the next in a headlock. Her team took down the other two before she had a chance. She moved rapidly ahead. There. The barrel of a gun started to peek out from a door off the main corridor. Nat grabbed it, shoved the barrel down, then smashed the stock into the face of the man who'd been holding it. Rotating the gun, she let out a short burst of fire, taking out the other two men in the room. Fury signaled that the room across the hall was clear, and they began to move methodically through the space to make sure it was clear.

That floor took longer than Nat would have liked to empty, but nobody on her side got shot. She even warmed up, finally. The building was like a freezer.

The last three floors were all boring again – just scientists and equipment. It took very little time to get everyone secured and start moving them out to Fury's jet. Tandy and Phillips were way too excited to look at the equipment and play with the computers, and the two who had set up the explosives had come to help move the prisoners out.

"Romanoff, Thor, you can get back to the tower. I'm sure you want to be there. We'll forward all of the information we find immediately, and they rest of your team can hitch a ride with us," said Fury.

"Thanks," Nat shook his hand, which felt oddly formal with all they'd been through. But she wanted him to understand that she appreciated both be called in to help, so she could actually be doing something, and him releasing them to get back. And since Fury wasn't the hugging type, she'd have to settle for the shake. Thor clasped the man's forearm and thanked him too, and Fury seemed to understand.

"Tell Stark and Barton that their asses better be out of bed and healthy by the time I get there," he'd said in farewell.

As the Quinjet lifted to take them back, Nat could only hope that Fury's words were prophetic.


	9. Dissension

CHAPTER 9: Dissension

Avengers tower, isolation floor, monitor room

Hour 33

Bruce stared at Dr. Connor and struggled to keep his cool. He knew if his fight-or-flight reflex kicked in, they were in big, big trouble. Taking a long, slow breath helped a little. "Could you repeat that, please?" He sounded quite civil.

"Of course." The epidemiologist was completely unruffled, leading Bruce to wonder if he really was that unconcerned or if he was a total idiot. "I only had enough of untainted blood from Captain Rogers to make one batch of the anti-virus. I administered it to the person who was exposed the most recently, Dr. Davis."

Bruce rubbed at his forehead as if that could help him try to understand. "Did we confirm that Davis was actually exposed? Was his suit torn or anything?"

"No, but there is a good likelihood of it, given how Agent Barton grabbed him."

The other man's calm was beginning to grate on Bruce. Davis had been put in the end empty chamber, farthest from the elevator, to be monitored on the off chance that Clint had compromised his suit. He was far from the others because he did not personally know them, so they thought he'd be more comfortable on the end. But even though it was highly unlikely to even have been exposed, Connor had used the only anti-virus they had.

"Just to clarify, you gave the only solution to someone who might not even be sick, even though Tony is on a ventilator and Clint will be soon?" Bruce willed the man to tell him he was kidding.

"Yes, I felt it should be administered to the patient most likely to survive," Connor was implacable. There was no apology in his tone.

"Well, have you started a new batch of the anti-virus then at least?"

"No, I feel we need to wait until Captain Rogers at least two more clear blood tests before that is advisable."

"Your patients may die in the meantime!"

"The Hippocratic Oath tells me to first do no harm. I will not administer something which may cause harm."

"Well, what about a direct blood transfusion to see if the healing factor in Steve's blood can help the other two attack the virus?" Bruce waved at the stack of paper he'd clutched in his hand. The evidence was there – Steve's blood cells obliterated the virus in his body. "Even a small amount of his blood might help turn the tide."

"We have no idea how the serum bound itself to his cells, or how it keep reproducing with new cells. We just don't know what it might do to the other patients. Absolutely not." Connor's calm exterior broke slightly and he scowled.

Bruce was beside himself. He had to take a break from the argument. He excused himself and checked on his friends. They had had Dum-E dismantle two of the walls, so Steve, Clint, and Tony were all in one large chamber. It made it easier to treat the latter two, who were now sedated and hooked up to IVs and oxygen. In Tony's case, a ventilator was breathing for him, which was why he had to be sedated. Clint the doctors now considered a danger to them, and had ordered that he stay knocked out until cured. Steve sat between the two beds on a chair Dum-E had brought in for him, his unguarded expression one of such abject misery that Bruce had to look away.

Steeling himself, Bruce tracked down Coulson and Stan. It was the middle of the night, and both were sleeping on some of the cots that had been brought in, surrounded by lab equipment. Bruce would have felt guilty waking them, but the clock ticking in his mind wouldn't allow it. He felt like his teammates very lives were at stake.

But when he explained the argument, neither man would overrule the epidemiologist. They were obviously both troubled by his unilateral decision to treat Davis first, and asked questions about why he wouldn't work on the anti-virus immediately, but ultimately, deferred to him as the expert.

Smugly, Connor excused himself to get some rest. "I should be able to work on the solution in the morning," he said. "It is everyone's best option." Bruce watched him go, gripping his own thighs so hard that his nails dug painfully into his skin. The doctor didn't see people, he realized. He saw a problem to solve, he saw numbers and statistics. Death was just one more fact that helped build a case study.

A hand on his shoulder startled Bruce. "You shouldn't surprise me like that, Agent Coulson," he warned.

"Dr. Banner, I believe you are the one watching the monitors now, is that correct?" he asked quietly, not responding to Bruce's comment. Bruce nodded dumbly. "I suppose nobody else would be awake to stop you from treating the patients, then. I mean, once I go back to bed." He deliberately caught Bruce's eye and squeeze his shoulder one more time. Good night, Dr. Banner."

Bruce gaped at him for a moment. He was a rule follower, someone who liked order and keeping things the way they should be. And yet...

When Coulson had gone out, it took Bruce nearly half an hour to talk himself into his course of action. But finally, the rhythmic hissing of Tony's ventilator pushed him over the edge. Clint's oxygen stats were dropping by the hour, and he wasn't far from a ventilator himself. And the next step...well, there wasn't one.

Bruce pushed aside his fears and insecurities, found tubing and the other supplies he'd need, and washed his hands. Then, knowing he wouldn't want to be unconscious again while fighting off the virus, he reluctantly suited up in hazmat gear.

Steve opened his eyes as Bruce walked in, then his eyes widened slightly as he saw who was in the suit. Bruce moved closer and Steve's eyes traced the equipment he was holding.

"Steve, do you trust me?" Bruce asked quietly.

Steve didn't hesitate. "Yes." There were questions in his eyes.

"Dr. Connor used all of your unsullied blood to make an anti-virus, but he gave it all to the doctor Clint might have exposed." Bruce gestured vaguely to his right to indicate the man sleeping in the first pod. "He won't start making more until you have two more clear blood tests. That puts us 12 hours out, best-case scenario, before we have anything to give Tony and Clint." He swallowed hard and forced himself to look at their faces. "I'm not sure they have that long."

"What do you need?" Steve was on board immediately.

"I believe that an infusion of your blood directly can give them a boost. Your cells can start the fight for them. Their bodies are losing, Steve, but with a jump-start, a little help, maybe they can gain some ground while we wait for the anti-virus." The corners of his mouth tightened. "I'm absolutely sure it's their best hope, but that's not good enough for Connor."

"What are the dangers?" Bless him, Steve was rolling up his sleeves even as he asked.

"I don't know. There's always been speculation about what might happen if you gave blood to someone else, but no matter what happens, it will be short-term. People have tried to use your blood to re-create the serum many times, but it dies outside of your body. I believe their immune systems and metabolisms will get a kick, but that it will slowly wear off, probably within a few hours if we do it just once, within a few days if we do it twice."

Steve gave a decisive nod. "Let's do it, then. I can do both at once."

It went against medical precedent, but they were way beyond that now, and Bruce had no idea how long they had until they were interrupted, so... He quickly cleaned the inside of Steve's elbows, then Clint's left arm and Tony's right. Steve flexed enough so his veins popped a little, so Bruce didn't even bother with tourniquets. Luckily, he had experience putting in IVs, and soon, blood was flowing down the tubing to both stricken men.

"Stand up a minute," instructed Bruce, then piled Steve's chair high with pillows. "Now sit. We need to get gravity on our side." He only allowed the blood to flow for ten minutes before reaching to stop it. Steve protested that he could stand to give more. "I know that, but we have to see how they tolerate this," explained Bruce.

When everything was disconnected, he went to bandage Steve's arms and found that the injuries were already closed. "Handy."

Steve shrugged. "Let's hope so."

"I'll check in again, then I'd like to try it again in an hour if we don't get caught." Bruce dumped a bunch of small packages on Steve's lap. "I know you'll say you don't need it, but I'll feel better if you eat and drink something." He gathered his supplies.

"Bruce." Steve's voice was even lower than usual, and he waited until Bruce looked him in the eye before continuing. "If you believe this is the right thing to do, so do I." Bruce nodded his thanks and left.

Steve went back to his vigil, as if his vigilance could singlehandedly stave off the virus for his friends. Maybe it couldn't, but then again, maybe his blood could. Still, he stared at their faces.

It was the stillness that got to him, he thought. Clint and Tony were far more alike than either one of them would ever admit, and one way that was true was their constant motion. Tony flitted from thing to thing, touching, looking, continually fiddling with something. His mouth seemed to move as much as the rest of him, Steve thought wryly but fondly. Yet, there was method to his seeming rambling. He always had a point he was making, or something he was learning or working on. The motions and words would seem chaotic and meaningless, but they rarely if ever actually were.

Clint was similar, but he tended to prowl. He would slouch into the room like a teenager, hands in his pockets. Steve was sure a lot of people were fooled by his casual grace, but even in the most relaxed situations, he would slowly circle a room, eyes darting from place to place, noting everything and everyone around him. Even when he sat, he bounced a leg or spun something through his fingers. This only stopped when he switched into sentry mode. Then, like a predator, he would go absolutely still, except for his eyes. He would seem calm in his stillness, but he was prepared to act in a second.

To have the pair of them so still, their faces slack and uncaring, twisted up something in Steve's guts. "Bruce?" he called right before Banner could go out. "Do you think we could stop Clint's sedative? It would give us a much better gauge of how the blood is affecting him. And I can stop him from attacking anyone."

Bruce thought about it, giving Steve a sympathetic smile. "In for a penny, in for a pound," he muttered and set down his supplies. "It's not really medically mandated anyway, I guess. Although if he needs a ventilator, he'll have to be sedated then."

"I know." Steve left it at that, because Bruce was doing what he wanted.

"He still won't wake up for a while. I'm lowering it, not stopping it completely. I can probably stop it after the next infusion, okay?"

Steve nodded, and this time he let Bruce leave. But he still kept watch.


	10. Awake

CHAPTER 10: Awake

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 35.5

Clint Barton, predictably, came awake suddenly and violently. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet, ripping out his IV and pulling off his oxygen mask. The IV pole went flying one way and the man who'd been standing next to his bed went flying the other.

Clint wobbled slightly, trying to get his bearings, and voice he knew said, "Steady, Clint. You're safe. Bruce was just taking out your blood transfusion." Clint blinked and looked to his left to see Steve standing a few feet away, hands up and palms out in a conciliatory gesture. Then he glanced down to see Bruce in a hazmat suit staring up at him.

"Oh. Oh crap. Sorry, Bruce." He sat heavily back on his bed. "I don't do so well when I'm disoriented." He winced. "Please don't ask me why."

Bruce stood up and didn't look upset in the slightest. In fact, he and Steve were both grinning. "Um. You're weirding me out a little, guys. What did I miss?"

"That will take a bit of talking," said Bruce. "Why don't you lie back and let me clean that up?" He indicated the line of blood trickling down Clint's arm. Clint thought about arguing, but a wave of dizziness swept over him, and next thing he realized, he was firmly tucked back in and his arm was clean and bandaged.

"Are you back with us?" asked Bruce.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." Clint coughed and it hurt, but he shoved that down. "Now, what's going on and why are you two grinning like that?"


	11. Plot

CHAPTER 11: Plot

Avengers Tower, isolation floor laboratory

Hour 36

He stared at the new results in complete shock. They were getting better. A lot better. It was bad enough only two of them were expected to die from his beautiful virus, now it was possible none of them would. While this would give him a massive amount of material to help him refine it and kill a few more of the Avengers on the next try, he knew his superiors were not patient. They would probably not give him a second chance if he couldn't even kill a couple of their enemies. They wouldn't recognize just how much he'd learned about the weaknesses of each Avenger, and what kind of havoc he could wreak with that knowledge.

His brilliant mind raced for ideas. He would really prefer if it still seemed like they'd died from the virus, because then the rest would stop searching for him and blame the dead Hahn. Sacrificing the man had been a hard choice because of his value, but he still believed it was ultimately the right one.

He looked back at the page of medical statistics for Stark and Barton for answers, and his eyes lit on the cramped but neat handwriting at the bottom of the page. Direct blood transfusions given at 0230 and 0340 for ten minutes each from Rogers. Estimated transfusion 40 – 50 ml each. Ventilator also removed at 0340 for Stark. Visible improvement in breathing for both patients.

What. The. Hell. He frantically paged through more of the reports. There. Blood results from all three of the Avengers still in isolation. No virus shown in Rogers, noticeably minimized in the other two. He began to swear silently but virulently.

Stark and Barton could still die, though. They were weak. And he had time before the full day shift came in. It would be a very simple thing to slip them a drug that would weaken their respiratory response while they were unconscious. He'd tested the drug he had in mind on pneumonia patients who were at the tipping point...it had not let him down yet. Lungs that were already compromised simply couldn't fight it, and the deaths were always attributed to the original cause of pneumonia.

He stared into space for a moment. Rogers was in there like a damn watch-dog. He would see and report what was done.

No, the time for subtlety was over, he decided. Before Stark and Barton could improve any more, and certainly before Romanoff and Thor returned, he had to remove them. He glanced at the time. And he would have to be quick.

A lot of people were about to die, and just maybe, he wouldn't be one of them.


	12. Trap

CHAPTER 12: Trap

Avengers Tower, floor 45: residential area

Hour 36.5

Happy Hogan grimaced and squinted at his phone. Although he couldn't do anything to help him employer/friend and the other Avengers except to help keep the tower security running smoothly, he had hardly slept since the crisis had started. Now that he'd finally been sleeping, an alert had come to his phone.

Seeing it was from Dr. Conner, however, brought him to immediate, adrenaline-fueled wakefulness. The terrifying message read: Dr. Banner showing signs of hallucination, putting patients in immediate danger. Containment impossible on isolation floor. Banner is not contagious at this time. Please advise.

Swearing and pulling on pants as he responded, Happy wrote back, Security has an alternate containment option. Will contact Banner and inform you when he has been contained.

Gulping and taking deep breaths, Happy pulled on the rest of his clothes. Tony had set failsafes in place, and Happy had run through them with his people regularly, but the reality of hoping to contain the Hulk was a terrifying one. But when it came down to it, he would do absolutely anything to protect his closest friend. With another swallow, he dialed Bruce's phone.

"Happy? What's going on?" Bruce sounded tired.

"Dr. Banner, I have a situation that needs your attention." Happy scowled. He hated lying, especially to people he liked. "I have some security people who are showing signs of illness, but I don't want anybody to panic, and if I call one of those fancy doctors to check them out, people will get really nervous. Do you think you could come take a look?"

"Um, yeah sure." Bruce sounded a little confused, but agreeable as always. "Where?"

"Sub-basement G."

"I didn't know there was such a place. Okay, give me five minutes to grab a couple of things."

"Yeah, I wanted to get them separated from everyone else. You'll have to put code E-22 into the elevator."

"Okay. See you in a couple."

Happy leaned his head against the wall and hoped really, really hard that this went as smoothly as Tony had always assured him it would. Of course, Tony had also promised, "We'll never need this – it's just a precaution, you know."

Bruce stepped off the elevator and looked around in confusion. The space was almost completely bare, and once he got off the elevator, the door closed and a heavy steel door closed over it with a clang. The walls were smooth and white, and there weren't even any supporting pillars and dividing walls. It looked like...a giant, white cell.

"I'm sorry for this, Dr. Banner," said Happy's voice from above him. "But you are sick and you don't realize it. We will get you help...somehow...as soon as possible. Please try to remain calm."

"Wait! Happy, wait! I'm not actually sick. Happy! Can you hear me!" But Bruce was only met with a deep silence.

Many, many floors up, the Hydra agent read the text telling him Bruce was contained, and he sighed. There, that was one. He may not be able to kill Banner today, but at least he was well and truly out of the way. He flicked the switches to lock down the monitor room, which was currently empty besides himself and his three most trusted agents, and the lab next door, which was currently full of all of the scientists and medical staff who were currently on the clock, plus one very annoying Agent Coulson. It was a real shame that Coulson had kept such a close watch on everything, because this would have been a whole lot faster if he'd been able to put one of his highly effective poison gases into the air instead of just a quick-acting sedative. Still, fish in a barrel and all of that. His men were well-armed and would take care of everyone on the floor in short order.

With a little smile, he flipped a few more switches, and green gas began to flood both the isolation chamber and the lab. In 20 minutes or so, Captain America, Iron Man, Hawkeye, and Agent Coulson, would be dead. His superiors had to approve of that.


	13. Suffocation

AN: A huge thank you to Soulsilver, hedtia, and MewWinx96 for your kind comments! I fully admit that I am a very insecure writer, so I really appreciate the encouragement! Criticism and ideas are always welcome too.

Funny note: a friend really wanted me to call this chapter Shut up, Steve. lol

Sorry in advance for the way this chapter ends...

CHAPTER 13: Suffocation

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 36.5 (still)

Steve suddenly jerked upright. Green gas was curling down from all of the vents in the isolation rooms. He stared around, noticing that nobody else was in sight. "Hello?" he called. "What's going on here?" He pulled his shirt up over his mouth trying to minimize what he was breathing in. His every instinct was on alert. "Come out and explain what's happening or I'm breaking out!"

Nobody responded, so Steve punched the wall. Nothing happened, so he punched it again, hard enough that he heard and felt something break in his hand. He pulled back a one more time, but a hand grabbed his bicep. "Cap, here," said Clint in a gravelly voice. Steve looked down to see he was holding out an oxygen tank. Steve gave him a smile, hefted it and smashed through the first wall. Lifting it a second time, he easily smashed through the second wall as well. By the time he was through, Clint had managed to leverage Tony to his feet, and had wrapped a shirt around each of their faces. Steve was not certain that Tony was even awake, but somehow the two men were on their feet.

"Elevator code is L-176," ground out Clint, who had been in prime position to see people get on and off.

Steve jogged over and tried it, but nothing happened. Shaking his head, he came back to the door closest to the spot they'd exited their pod and tried the knob. Finding it locked, he put his shoulder to it and forced it open. Whatever happened, they had to get away from that gas.

The room proved to be the largest lab, with a number of lab-coat wearing people milling around. Unfortunately, gas was coming into that room too, but there was only one vent in the room, so Clint tugged Tony into the room and shut the door behind them. He propped the half-awake billionaire in a chair and pulled off his sweatshirt. "Steve, can you get me up there?" he indicated the 10-foot ceiling. Steve made a step with his hands.

"You okay to do this?"

"Shut up and throw me," grunted Clint, stepping into the hands. Without another word, Steve heaved him upward. Clint caught the vent, and gripped. His weight broke the vent cover off, and he crashed down half on top of Steve, who fortunately had the strength and reflexes to keep them both from hitting the floor. "Again."

Sighing slightly, Steve steepled his hands again, and tossed Clint one more time. This time, Clint hooked the edge of the opening with one hand and used the other hand to stuff his sweatshirt inside. "More clothes!" he called. A couple of lab coats flew up to him, and he snatched them and stuffed them in as well. Seeing this blocked the vent pretty effectively, he swung himself free of Steve, who was waiting in case he needed assistance on his landing again. Clint gave his friend a cocky smirk, only to ruin it by falling onto his backside.

Despite appearing half dead and having his hair sticking up in clumps, Tony was messing with the computer. "I'm blocked from JARVIS," he announced. His voice sounded like broken glass. "Whoever is trying to kill us or knock us out or whatever has instituted full lock down procedures. They're probably in the monitor room."

Steve nodded, pulled his shirt up over his mouth again, and moved to the door. When Clint shadowed him, he hesitated, but Clint beat him to the punch. "Shut up, Steve," he said again.

Steve didn't bother to argue, or even point out that he hadn't actually said anything. Instead, he just nodded and burst through the door, moving to the next door down the way. Inside, there weren't any hostiles, just Phil Coulson, Dr. Stan, and two others sleeping on the cots they'd brought in for that purpose. They must have been asleep when the gas came in, because none of them moved despite the noisy entrance.

"Cap!" called Clint. Armed men, dressed in dark SHIELD body armor, had emerged from the last door before the elevator. Steve might have hesitated, given their uniforms, but they were lifting their weapons even as he noticed them. Angry over everything that his friends had been put through and vastly relieved to finally have a tangible enemy to fight, Steve launched himself toward them. His flying kick caught the first man in the chest, knocking him and his closest four friends to the ground.

"Well, damn," laughed Clint as he pulled the weapon right out of another man's hands and brained him with it. "Leave some for me." He ducked a punch and came up to elbow a man behind him on the face. Steve kicked out to his left, making one hostile's knee crunch, while simultaneously throwing a punch into the face of another man that dropped the latter cold. He glanced around to see Clint kick one man viciously in the head and realized nobody else was still on their feet. He ducked into the last room and quickly dispatched the two hostiles who were waiting for him. He could feel the effects of the gas and wasn't sure how Clint was still conscious. They had to get it shut down, and quickly.

But before he could figure out just how to do that, one of the enemies stood up and pointed his gun. Clint leaped at him, but as things seemed to switch to slow motion, Steve could tell that he wouldn't make it before the man could fire. His finger tightened on the trigger, and a gunshot rang out.


	14. Fighting Back

CHAPTER 14: Fighting back

Avengers Tower, isolation floor

Hour 36.5 (yes, still)

To Steve's and Clint's surprise, the man menacing them dropped like a rock, revealing Phil Coulson, armed with a small pistol. "Did you two forget how to secure hostiles?" he asked, unimpressed.

"Sorry boss," sighed Clint, leaning drunkenly against the closest wall. "'S getting a little hard to focus."

"Coming through. Move aside," called a voice even more ravaged than Clint's. Coulson obediently moved, allowing Tony to be wheeled in on an office chair by two of the lab coats. He directed them to the computer station he wanted with all of the contrived dignity of a pharaoh on his palanquin. In just a few moments, the gas stopped.

"Oh, thank God."

Tony glanced up at the sound of Clint's voice. "Hey, Barton. You look like crap!"

Clint managed a laugh. "You should look in a mirror." Clint got up tiredly to help Coulson properly secure all of the hostiles. Their work was interrupted by Tony again.

"JARVIS? You there now?"

"Yes, sir. I apologize for my earlier inability to assist you."

"No worries, J-man." Despite his haggard appearance, Tony smiled. "Now, what's happening?"

"I am...still unable to access most of my functions in the top section of the tower, however, I can tell you that there is an elevator full of armed people headed up, possibly for the launch balcony." The AI sounded almost apologetic. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen to the interaction by now.

"Well, stop it!"

"I cannot, sir. I can observe only." A screen lit with an image of an elevator. There were about 10 people dressed like the men Clint, Steve, and Phil had just dispatched. And in the center was...

"Dr. Davis!" This was said by Dr. Stan, who had appeared in the doorway, looking a little crazed with askew clothes and wild hair. The mild-mannered man's face twisted into a scowl. "How dare he? He is supposed to care for his patients!" He was extremely agitated by this.

"Are there any planes on the launch balcony?" asked Tony, cutting to the heart of the matter.

"No, Mr. Stark. There is, however, a helicopter large enough to carry all of those in the elevator. It landed 2 hours ago, and is not a known configuration. It does, however, appear to be well-armed."

"Can you unlock the elevator for us, JARVIS?" interjected Phil.

"I'm afraid not, Agent Coulson."

"Resetting JARVIS' security functions will take about half an hour," muttered Tony. "Way too long."

Phil was on his phone. "Widow and Thor are ten minutes out," he said to Clint's questioning look. "They will have to stop that copter or we could be facing a massive biological attack." He turned his attention to the call.

Natasha could already see the tower when Phil's call came in. He explained the situation in a few terse sentences, finished with instructions to not destroy the helicopter if at all possible, since they had no idea if Davis had the virus on board in any capacity – they couldn't risk sending it into the air.

As Nat angled for the launch balcony, a group of men ran into the helicopter and its blades began to turn. She swore. "We have ZERO weapons on this useless jet!"

"If you can land us quickly, I can get us to the helicopter," promised Thor, a manic gleam in his eye.

Nat performed a minor miracle, turning the Quinjet on a dime and dropping it into place with enough force that half of the landing gear snapped off. She and Thor were out before it finished settling into place, but the helicopter was already moving away rapidly.

"Ready?" asked Thor, reaching for her arm. She nodded, expecting him to pick her up and do his flying thing after their prey. Instead, he grabbed her forearm and threw her at the chopper. Fortunately, she was stronger than most, and her reflexes and his aim were both excellent. In a second, she was clinging to one of the skids.

Thor flew up next to her and ripped the door off before she could so much as glare at him. She saw the door fly through a window in the Avengers tower and winced as she pulled herself up to the door.

The pilot in front of her was slumped in his seat, so she grabbed the top of the door frame and swung her legs over his body, wrapping them around the neck of a man standing just beyond the pilot. Natasha let go of the frame and used her momentum and their combined weight to bring the man smashing down on his face.

She jumped back to her feet and knocked down another man with a flat-handed strike to the sternum. Though it was a large helicopter, it was completely full of people, and Thor was in the middle of them. There was no room to swing a hammer, so he was simply beating them into submission with his fists. Nat was waiting for an opportunity to help without hitting him when the pilot's body shifted and the chopper suddenly began to descend at a sharp angle.

Deciding Thor was just fine, Nat pushed the pilot to the side – through the space where the door should be, oops – and took his spot. A gun fired and a hole appeared in the windshield above her head as she stabilized them. When this was done, she decided Thor was getting a good, verbal beat-down. Then she focused and performed her second miracle in 10 minutes, landing the helicopter in the tiny space left next to the Quinjet. It was so tight one of the skids actually hung about a foot over the railing and the tail came to rest in the crook of the Quinjet wing. If the wings hadn't automatically folded up after landing, they would have crashed.

Nat took stock of the situation – Thor was surrounded by unconscious or dead men, and the pilot had landed on top of the jet itself, so his body hadn't killed any innocent pedestrians. With a relieved sigh, she called Coulson back. He could clean this mess up. She'd had a hell of a day.


	15. El Fin

AN: The last chapter...kinda long because there were a lot of details to clean up and a scene I've had in my head for a long time.

Confession time: I normally just write for myself. But I've really enjoyed sharing this story and am considering writing more for this site. If you have an opinion about that either way, I'd love to hear it. Thanks! Mwah!

CHAPTER 15: El Fin

Avengers Tower

Hour 122

It had been a busy few days. Workers were still repairing the launch balcony, though SHIELD agents had removed the helicopter, busted Quinjet, and bodies. They had taken all of the living prisoners, too. After Fury finished scolding Natasha for breaking one of his jets, he told them that Davis had been the mastermind for all of it. He had been masquerading as a simple tech for several years and had worked for Connor for the last 18 months, stealing his research and using it to craft his virus. He'd known the Avengers would call in the best, and admitted under questioning that he intended to re-craft the virus after it had killed at least a few of them, and target the rest based on what he'd learned. He was Hydra through and through, but didn't have the mental fortitude to resist their questioning.

The good news in all of it is that Davis revealed that the Avengers had tracked Hahn earlier than his bosses had expected, meaning there were no other places it was stored except for his person stash. This was confirmed by intel taken from the Greenland facility.

Connor was horrified and humiliated by the news that it was one of his people who had caused all of the problems. He was arrogant, but ultimately good at what he did. He dedicated himself to preparing a true cure for the new virus. It had been Davis who had sent the text from Connor's phone to Happy, of course. Connor himself had not even been on the isolation floor at the time. Fortunately for Bruce, Happy had tried to confirm the message and, when he found himself unable to reach anybody on the upper floors, had released Bruce, who had never gotten upset enough to go green.

Tony and Clint had been moved to the regular medical floor of the tower. More than one of their teammates gave them lectures when Dr. Stan revealed just how sick they still were. Pepper had promptly hired Stan, impressed by his dedication to his patients.

Clint was under the impression that he did not need to be in medical, but was overruled by basically everyone. He promptly went to sleep for the next 14 hours, which pretty much negated his claims. After that, Nat nabbed him trying to sneak out of the tower, but negotiated with Stan and Clint to allow the latter to sleep in his own suite if he promised to check in daily and follow the doctor's orders.

Tony was so sick he almost ended up back on the ventilator and had to have another infusion of Steve's blood before he began to improve. Thor thought that finally being able to hold Pepper's hand had helped his recovery a great deal.

Dr. Stan had just left Tony's room, leaving a very disgruntled man behind. Tony wanted out of there, but Stan told him he just wasn't strong enough yet and should stay at least one more night for observation. Tony had been allowed his tablet and of course had a TV, but he was so sick of the same walls he was considering something drastic.

The door to his room eased slowly open, and a lab coat-clad figure stepped in quietly, closing the door behind him just as quietly. "Barton?" called Tony, confused about the way the man had come in, not to mention his attire. Like the rest of the team, Clint had been to visit before, but not in such a clandestine manner.

Clint held a finger to his lips and moved close enough to whisper. "Shhh! I bet you wanna get out of here. Amirite?"

A grin spread across Tony's face. "You got a plan, bird man?"

"You know it." Clint efficiently turned off, then unhooked Tony's oxygenation sensor, heart monitor, and blood pressure cuff. He even turned off the IV and unhooked it from the last bit of tubing, which he taped against Tony's arm. Tony's eyebrows went up.

"Um, it seems like you've done this before." Clint just smirked and rummaged through the small room closet. He tossed some clothes on the bed.

"I'm not helping you with that. I'll be right back." He slipped out the door again. By the time Tony was dressed, which took longer than he'd expected, Clint had returned with a stethoscope, another lab coat, and two clipboards. "Walk next to me and keep your head down. When I ask you a question, answer me but quietly enough that nobody can actually hear what you're saying."

"Barton, you are terrifying. Let's get out of here."

The men exited after Clint had checked that the hallway was clear. They turned a corner and strolled confidently, appearing to study the clipboard that Clint was holding. "You good to keep walking?" he asked Tony quietly.

"No problem."

Clint lead him through a very convoluted path through medical and into an area that was obviously medical storage. They got into a service elevator. "No cameras on this elevator," grinned Clint. Tony shook his head.

"Is there anywhere in the tower you haven't explored?"

They left their lab coats and medical accouterments in the elevator and took a route that Tony couldn't have replicated in 100 years, through a cafeteria kitchen, a service corridor, and a lot more storage. Finally, the took a flight of stairs he'd never seen and emerged onto the Avenger's favorite lounge floor. All of them, along with Pepper and Happy were grabbing pizza from the table, which was covered in cheesy goodness.

"Tony!" Pepper ran over and gave him a hug. "I thought they weren't releasing you until tomorrow!"

"You just have to know how to ask," said Clint as the others came over to welcome Tony too. Pepper gave Tony a big hug, but Nat reached over and flipped up the end of his sleeve, revealing the end of the IV tubing.

"Clint Barton," she said in such a deadly voice that he wasn't the only one who winced.

"They were going to let him go tomorrow anyway, but I think movie night with his team – with friends – could help him more than another lousy night's sleep in the hospital," he protested.

Pepper was glaring at Tony, who wouldn't meet her eyes. Then, finally, she said, "I'm okay with that, since we can keep on eye on you all evening and I will be with you over night. But you have to call the medical staff and let them know so they don't panic."

He quickly agreed, and Thor laughed. "On every realm I've ever been to, the males are larger, louder, often stronger. But when it comes to our well-being, it is the females who rule." Steve laughed and Bruce smiled, but Clint and Tony just nodded at the Asgardian's wisdom, and nobody disputed his words.

They settled in to eat pizza and watch "Wonder Woman" in the massive den. When the movie finished, it was a very relaxed, sated group.

"Bruce?" said Pepper quietly. "I wanted to thank you for following your instincts and giving Tony and Clint infusions of Steve's blood. They wouldn't have survived otherwise."

Bruce turned bright red. "If Thor and Natasha hadn't stopped Davis and his goons, they could have kept working on the virus and tried again."

"That wouldn't have mattered if Steve and Clint hadn't stopped the rest of his people," insisted Natasha.

"Or if Tony had not made the computers work again," added Thor.

"None of it would have mattered if Steve hadn't given his blood," contributed Clint, and now the super soldier blushed.

"Yeah, team," said Tony without opening his eyes or lifting his head from Pepper's lap. The rest chuckled.

"Hey, I have a text from Fury," said Nat after a few moments of silence. "Sounds like he's got another lead on the scepter and a guy named Baron Strucker."

Clint threw a pillow at her, which she deflected without looking up. "Tomorrow," he grunted, and Nat shrugged and put the phone away. Even assassins grew sleepy after a long day and stomach full of pizza.

Eventually, Tony was coerced into going to bed and the rest of the Avengers wandered off to their own rooms, except Clint who crashed on the couch and did nothing but roll over when Nat tossed a blanket over him. They had lived to fight another day, and for now, that was enough.


End file.
